


Like A Real Boy

by IAmWhelmed



Series: Origami Birds [8]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Son of Batman (2014), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Batfam wants their baby bat back, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne is Missing, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Jason Todd Feels, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Sibling Love, Sort Of, Worried Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24885166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: This isn't the first time Dick has lost a little brother, but it doesn't hurt any less.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Origami Birds [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786054
Comments: 13
Kudos: 173





	Like A Real Boy

Damian, for the most part, didn’t really act like a kid.

He acted like a prince. Entitled. Snooty. Bloodthirsty if it meant claiming his throne. He was all about skill, about power, because that’s all he’d known, but it wasn’t all he was. Loyal to the death, protective, artistic, and he loved like few Dick had ever known. Damian was his brother, the youngest of his brothers-- the baby. He could still feel him struggling out of a one-armed hug, whining and throwing his legs in the air, hissing “Grayson!”

They didn’t get along, and anybody could see Damian made that difficult to change. Their first interaction had been a fight over a crook that left him covered in cuts that needed stitches. He’d strung him from a lamppost and prayed that the little brat with red in his eyes was lying when he said he was Bruce’s. The kid practically foamed at the mouth when they’d fought, and yet, somehow, he’d been telling the truth. Bruce’s DNA, his son,  _ his blood son _ , words that still left an acidic taste in his mouth when he heard them in Damian’s small  _ child-like  _ voice. He’d told him he couldn’t be Robin, but he’d been wrong.

There was good in Damian, he knew that, he was just struggling to find himself. Between his grandfather, Bruce, Talia, the boy had more tenants in his head than he had rooms to offer. He tried to be a consoling hand, Starfire had tried, but he had to do it on his own. What mattered was that Damian was trying his hardest, and that he was beginning to meld into the family he’d never had. He’d found his art, and he’d found  _ Jon _ , and he’d settled into this life and didn’t snip or snark at Alfred or anyone else-- as much. He’d been so proud of him, even if Damian wouldn’t listen when he said it. Bruce was, too. Alfred was. Maybe ten years at the League hadn’t been too long to save him. Maybe his childhood was just starting a little late. Damian still hissed and scowled and said mean, hurtful things that cut deep if you let them, but he was still just a boy. They had so many to make up for, and the years ahead of them looked bright.

And then he disappeared.

For all the strategic war novels he read, and all the brains that somehow held together inside of his small little head, Damian was impulsive. He’d found Ivy’s hideout somehow before Red Robin, before the goddamn Batman, and Dick had ordered him to stay put, and Red Hood had confirmed he was only a few minutes away--  _ and Damian had gone in anyways _ . He’d crushed his stupid comm between his fingers and his tracker didn’t fare much better; they’d found it afterwards, crushed at the foot of a wall where Red Robin surmised he’d been tossed like a ragdoll. Broken glass everywhere, but no blood, and Ivy swore up and down that she’d tossed him out the window and into the docks below, that he should have survived that fall, that he should have turned up safe.

But they hadn’t found a body, and he hadn’t contacted them, and nothing seemed right. Damian was avoiding them, or hiding, or he was dead somewhere, and they couldn’t find him. It sucked. He knew that it was his own grieving mind, that Damian would never allow it even if they were reunited, but he wanted nothing more than to sweep him up in his arms and hold him. The Damian in his mind wrapped his arms around his neck and his small legs around his torso and clung for dear life, like a real kid. He’d pat Damian’s head, hold him close, squeeze him, tell him to never worry him or Bats like that again. He couldn’t imagine, even when he’d never say it aloud, that Damian would cry, because he couldn’t recall the sight of tears ever having met Damian’s round face, but he could imagine Damian nuzzling into him, and nodding.

He knew Bruce felt the same, knew the man wanted nothing more than to find his son and bring him home, hold him, love him the way he’d missed out on when their baby was still here. Jason hadn’t left the manor in months, probably because he knew Bruce couldn’t stand one less kid in the house, nor could Alfred. Even Tim missed the kid, he could tell, the way he wandered like a lost puppy through every room of the manor, looking almost disappointed when he didn’t find a fight. Bruce had taken leave from work the third month he’d been gone, so he could focus on finding his boy. Dick had made the decision, no matter what, he’d help him. He’d help Bruce find Damian, because they were a family, and no damn villain in Gotham could tear them away from each other. He knew Tim had never stopped looking, and he was beginning to suspect Jason had similar intentions, despite his declarations that Damian was dead, that there was no use looking for him.

“Honestly, Dickie Boy… I hope I’m wrong, too.”

Jason knew better than anybody what it felt like to be left alone. He was Batman’s first loss, Bruce’s second loss, and Dick’s wakeup call-- because Batman needed Robin. Always had, always would. If they’d never found Jason’s body, if they’d thought for one second that he’d been alive, or that Ra’s had pulled what he had, they’d have never stopped fighting for him. He knew that, now at least. He’d found exactly what Dick had found when he’d stepped away-- he would always be a Robin. No matter how far he ran, no matter what mantle he took up, how old he got, he’d always have a place in the family. They would always be there for him. Jason, because he was about as emotionally constipated as anyone else in the goddamn family, would never say it, but he wanted to be there as much as they wanted him there. He wasn’t going anywhere until they got some answers. None of them were.

Damian could hide as long as he wanted to; they’d find him.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know the drill by now, I tried to write Dick Grayson and Jason Todd, hope I did okay xD Think I'm gonna tackle Jon next :D


End file.
